


You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

by lilferret



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilferret/pseuds/lilferret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to mean more than just another of Jack's shags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write another chapter of RHWfY. Unfortunately my muse refused to play nicely, and instead insisted on this. Oops? Originally posted 5/28/12.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Ianto stood wordlessly in the doorway as Jack stormed through the Hub. He saw Tosh duck her head back to the work on her desk, Gwen cough into her hand as she spun away, and Owen suddenly find the arm of the raggedy old couch extremely fascinating. He knew they’d been listening at the office door as Ianto received Jack’s anger.

His throat constricted but he kept a cool exterior, watching the cog door open and Jack disappear with a flash and swirl of blue-gray wool. He knew Jack would be heading to the top of a building somewhere in the city to brood. That or taking out his frustrations on some unsuspecting individual at a local club or pub. He tried not to let that idea hurt him, convincing himself that Jack wasn’t his to control, and that they weren’t in a committed relationship. But it still stung. He wanted to mean more than just another of Jack's shags.

“Medical bay, Tea boy,” Owen said gruffly, indicating the other side of the Hub with his head.

Ianto nodded silently, following the medic. He wasn’t up for a fight, and he certainly wasn’t going to break down and pour out his soul to his teammates. Better to just get the examination over with so that he could move on. Maybe he’d bury himself in archival work for the rest of the evening.

He didn’t miss the sad eyes that followed him as he passed the girls.

“Up on the table.”

“It’s not that bad, Owen.”

“Who’s the doctor, here?” Owen snapped, folding his arms as Ianto came down the stairs. “Just get on the table.”

Ianto did as he was told, removing his jacket and ignoring the cold that seeped through his trousers as he waited for the doctor to pull on latex gloves. He winced as Owen swabbed at his neck and crossed his feet, locking himself in place. He’d never admit just how painful that was. And Owen was never gentle.

“Gonna need stitches,” the medic advised, tugging at his collar. “They all are.”

Ianto sighed. He’d already bled quite a bit onto his favorite shirt. Perhaps if he hadn’t been dragged to Jack’s office for a dressing down before he was allowed to be treated it wouldn’t have been so bad. Now, however, he knew it would have to be thrown out.

“Give it a minute for the numbing to kick in.”

“Just do it,” he replied, not turning to look at Owen. 

“Don’t you think you’ve been Mr. Brave and Mighty enough for one night?” Owen asked him, taking a moment to clean up the scratches on Ianto’s face before rolling his sleeve up and cleaning those wounds as well. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“He’s immortal, Ianto.” Ianto glanced up to see Gwen standing at the railing overlooking the room. “He’ll always come back.”

“We don’t know that, Gwen,” Ianto replied. “One day he might not.”

“And you think you will?” Owen asked, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath that Ianto was pretty sure was a slight on Welshmen everywhere.

He sat patiently while Owen stitched up the tears in his neck and shoulder, then hopped down off the table and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t pull it back on, however. Maybe it could be salvaged.

“Go home, Jones,” Owen told him, removing his gloves. “I don’t want you aggravating those stitches.”

“I’ve work to do,” Ianto argued, heading up the stairs.

“I don’t care how bloody stubborn you are, or how invincible you imagine yourself to be, but fucking hell, Ianto. Go home!”

Ianto turned to look at the medic, seeing his anger as his nostrils flared. Jack wasn’t there to make him leave, but he knew damned well that if he stayed he’d have the doctor breathing down his neck and he’d probably never hear the end of it.

With a nod of the head he made his way to the kitchenette. He washed his hands carefully, prepared coffee for his teammates, and then made his way down and out of the Hub.

The idea of getting blood on his vehicle’s upholstery did not appeal to him, so he chose to walk home. It wasn’t too far. Twenty minutes if he walked quickly. And the air was brisk and rainy. Perfect for his mood.

He hadn’t been intending to jump in front of Jack, but the captain had been trying to fight off three Weevils at once, and judging solely by his inability to get much verbalized at the time Ianto had to assume that he was losing the battle. He was in worse shape than Ianto by the time the Welshman came to his aid. His shirt was torn, blood soaking the front of it, and he was on the ground, clutching his arm. He’d healed now, of course. As Gwen had said, he always came back.

Jack’s agonized shout at Ianto as he’d come around the corner of the alley and gotten between Jack and the Weevils stuck in his mind. He was too weak to stop him, however, and before Ianto had been attacked he’d managed to take down one of the beasts with Weevil spray and the butt of his gun, and another with a few bullets. The third got hold of him while he dealt with the other two and it wasn’t until another gun fired that he realized how close he’d come to dying. The claws of the third Weevil went deep, knocking Ianto to his knees beside Jack.

The others wrestled the Weevils into the boot of the SUV while Ianto stayed by Jack’s side, watching as the captain’s wounds slowly closed. His own were bleeding quite profusely, and he felt Jack reach up toward one. He’d flinched away, turning his head to avoid the other man’s gaze. His expression was a mixture of pain, worry, and anger, and Ianto didn’t want to think about it too much.

The ride back to the Hub had been nearly silent. Gwen drove, with Tosh in the passenger seat. Owen insisted on sitting in the back with him and Jack. “In case you bleed to death,” the medic had said. “Someone has to call it.”

Jack wouldn’t speak to him, instead turned to look out the window. That hurt more than the wounds themselves. He’d known Jack was angry, but being ignored cut deeply. It was in his nature to protect his teammates, and that included the captain. It didn’t matter to him that Jack would come back. He knew how painful it was for Jack, and if he could alleviate even some of his pain it was worth it. Jack hadn’t agreed.

When they’d arrived at the Hub Owen and the girls had moved the Weevils inside. They took the live one to the cells and left the other two by the door to the garage. Ianto knew he’d probably be the one to have to drag them to the incinerator, but he’d been sent home. As far as he was concerned Owen could do it.

He’d been practically dragged upstairs to Jack’s office, Owen calling after them that he needed to treat Ianto. Jack hadn’t listened, waiting until Ianto had crossed the threshold before slamming the door behind him and letting loose with everything he’d apparently been storing up.

Ianto wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Jack that angry before. The captain laid into him about getting in the middle of things when he had them handled, and risking his own life when he knew damned well that Jack would be fine. Ianto had tried to explain his motivation but Jack would hear none of it, and he didn’t figure the team even needed to eavesdrop in order to hear every word.

Arriving at his flat Ianto slid the key into the lock, pushing the door open and slipping off his shoes. He closed the door behind him, locking it before dropping his keys, mobile, and wallet onto the table in the hallway. Ianto was draping his suit jacket over the back of couch, intending to drop it at the cleaners it in the morning, when he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. He stood straight up, wishing he’d kept his gun with him.

“Who’s there?” he asked, rolling his eyes a second later. Because obviously a burglar was going to answer him. 

He spun to go back into the hallway to grab his mobile and when he exited the lounge he came face to face with his intruder. Jack.

“Sir?”

Jack didn’t reply, instead stepping well into Ianto’s personal space, his eyes dark. There was still plenty of light in the hallway, spilling in from the small window by the door. Even in the early evening on a rainy Cardiff summer day Ianto could make out every feature of his face, watching the muscle in his cheek twitch as Jack clenched his jaw.

One of Jack’s hands came up, touching his arm, his shoulder, his neck, and Ianto winced, trying not to look away. There was a fire in Jack’s eyes Ianto wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, and he was afraid that if he broke his gaze it might scorch him.

Jack’s other hand slid down his uninjured side, moving around to cup his arse as he tugged him closer. Ianto swallowed, finding himself drawn into a heated kiss as Jack’s other hand wound around his head, holding him still for his exploring tongue.

Ianto heard himself moan as the kiss deepened, and he ignored the burn of his stitched up wounds as he lifted his arms. He slipped the injured one around Jack while the other clung to his arm, grasping for purchase.

When the kiss broke they were panting, and Ianto licked his lips. He could taste whiskey, and knew Jack had been in his alcohol cupboard. He felt warmth spread through him at the thought that Jack had come here, to his home, and hadn’t gone out on the pull. Maybe he’d stopped at a pub… No, Ianto told himself, he had to have come straight to his flat. Not enough time for anything else.

Jack’s arms slipped from around him and Ianto found his hand being tugged as Jack moved down the hallway toward Ianto’s bedroom. He followed silently behind, allowing the captain to pull him along in his wake. As he was slowly undressed by the man before him Ianto realized that Jack needed this. He needed to be in control. When Ianto had thrown himself in front of the Weevils Jack had lost that control. Ianto could have been killed, and Jack would have been helpless to prevent it.

Ianto closed his eyes as Jack’s lips found his throat, sucking hard before sliding gently and slowly over his injured neck and shoulder. At Ianto’s intake of air Jack lifted his head and Ianto opened his eyes, matching blue for blue. Ianto could still see the worry and pain in the captain’s eyes, though the anger seemed to be gone. He wanted to erase that pain. He knew he could never erase the worry.

Ianto pulled away from Jack, backing until his legs hit bedding behind him. He crawled backward onto the bed and lay back against the pillows, completely nude. If it were possible Jack's eyes darkened even further, and he stalked toward Ianto. His captain was still fully clothed, coat included, and a small part of Ianto wanted to comment on the shoes he hadn't taken off by the door. He squashed that thought as soon as it formed.

Jack sank onto the bed beside him, leaning in to kiss him again. This kiss was less fiery, more of a gentle slide of lips and tongue. Ianto moaned anyway, feeling one of Jack's hands trail down his body. It didn't stop until it reached his erection, a hot, tight friction as Jack began to stroke him.

“You could have died today,” Jack finally said, a growl as he pulled back from his lips. 

“I'm sorry.”

“I would have come back. You can't.”

“I know.” They'd already had this discussion. Hell, everyone had already said this today.

“And yet you put yourself between me and death.”

Ianto swallowed, trying to focus on Jack's face and on his words. The hand wrapped around his cock was distracting him, however, and he found his eyes fluttering shut as Jack's movements increased.

“I just...God, Jack.” His hips rose of their own volition, placing a bit of strain on his injured side.

“I need to depend on you, Ianto.” A stroke, his thumb rubbing over the tip of Ianto's cock. “I'm your boss, your leader.” Squeeze, stroke, squeeze. “If I can't trust you to be where I tell you to be I can't have you in the field.”

Ianto groaned, opening his eyes a fraction in order to meet Jack's. “Watching you die is painful, Jack,” he said, breathing more raggedly than he would have liked. “It...it hurts me too.”

Jack's brow furrowed and he released his cock. Ianto thought for a moment he was going to leave. Instead, he leaned down and whispered in his ear, “The thought of losing you, Ianto...”

Jack sat back up, apparently unable to finish his thought, and Ianto felt his eyes fill with moisture. But he refused to cry. He grabbed hold of Jack's coat and tugged him down again until their lips met, hard and wet. Their tongues fought each other, first in Ianto's mouth and then in Jack's. 

When Ianto sucked on Jack's tongue it was the captain's turn to moan. He began shedding his clothing piece by piece, tossing everything to the ground beside the bed. By the time he was naked Ianto was panting again. He needed Jack. Needed him bad.

Jack reached into the bedside table and removed the lube they always kept there, drizzling it onto his fingers. But when Ianto started to lift his legs to aid Jack's movements Jack pushed them back down, instead reaching behind himself.

“Jack?”

The captain just smirked at him, his expression turning to one of pleasure a few moments later when he began pushing those fingers inside himself. Ianto could only watch, his cock beginning to leak and throb with neglect. He moved a hand to to stroke himself, imagining himself being buried inside Jack's heat. It had been a while since Ianto had topped. A long while.

It only took a few minutes and then Jack was straddling him, moving Ianto's hand out of the way so he could take control, position the Welshman where he wanted him. The captain sank down, taking him inside slowly, and Ianto's mouth went dry. He bit his lip.

“S-slow or fast?” he finally asked, both hands moving to Jack's hips. Fast. Please say fast, he thought. He needed fast.

“Fast and hard,” Jack replied, locking his lust-filled eyes on Ianto's and then rising until Ianto was barely inside him. He sank back down quickly and Ianto met him with a thrust. “Yes, like that. Just like that, Ianto.”

Ianto gripped Jack's flesh hard, hoping he wouldn't leave marks. Even though he knew they'd be gone within minutes. His hips rose to meet Jack's arse over and over again, the pain in Ianto's neck and shoulder a dull throb compared to the fire burning between his legs.

All that could be heard in the room was their harsh breathing and their skin slapping together. Ianto twisted his hips, causing Jack to groan. God, he was so hard. He knew he wasn't going to last very long.

Taking Jack's swollen cock in his hand he started to stroke, but then his injuries made his left arm tire, and he couldn't hold onto him. Jack must have noticed him struggling as he pushed Ianto's hand away, grabbing hold of his own erection and jerking himself off.

“S-so close,” Ianto stuttered, moving his hands to once more hold Jack's hips. “Oh God.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, pumping his cock hard as he rose and fell on Ianto's flesh. 

“Yeah...”

Jack grunted, spilling up and over his hand. He was panting, leaning back on his other hand. Seeing the captain look so wanton was all it took for Ianto to fall over the edge himself. He called out Jack's name, thrusting a few more times inside his lover before he just couldn't hold onto him anymore and his arms fell to his sides.

Jack moved over him for a moment longer, shuddering as he came down from his climax, before pulling up and off of him and laying down on the other side of the bed.

“That,” Jack began, before having to clear his throat and take a deep breath. “That was...”

“Yes,” Ianto agreed, stretching his legs and curling his toes. Ianto felt Jack take his left hand, and he stared down at it, before looking over at Jack. The feel of wet, sticky semen between his fingers was not so appealing.

Jack just chuckled, removing his hand again. “Sorry.”

“S'okay,” Ianto replied, smiling softly. 

They lay in silence for a few minutes, both staring at the ceiling. Ianto fought the urge to roll onto his side and look at Jack instead. He didn't think Owen would appreciate the explanation as to how he'd torn his stitches.

“I really need to be able to trust you out there,” Jack told him again, still staring at the ceiling.

“I'm sorry, Jack.”

The captain rolled over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You're going to be sore for a while. Light duty. No heavy lifting.”

Ianto narrowed his eyes. “Now you tell me.”

Jack gasped in mock exasperation and Ianto grinned at him, drawing him down for another kiss. When they parted Jack climbed off the bed and headed for the showers.

“Join me?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.

“Of course.”

Jack disappeared and Ianto scooted off the bed, shuffling across the carpet to follow his captain. And as they stood in the warm shower, Jack soothingly washing his back for him, Ianto realized something. Jack had chosen him. Of all the ways he could have released his anger, and his fears, he'd chosen Ianto. That meant something. That meant a hell of a lot.

 

~fin~


End file.
